Quiescent
by ChocoCookiesMe
Summary: "He inaudibly promised that they would meet again in passing, as they often did" Taking an evening walk led Ginoza to an encounter with a familiar face. Nobuchika Ginoza birthday tribute (Nov 21). Oneshot. Art credit: LorenaMGrim


Nobuchika liked walking alone.

The sensation of biting, cool air hitting his face soothed him, and the sound of boots crunching on powdery snow allowed him to remain aware of his surroundings.

He pulled his coat closer to him, relishing in the warmth and the rustling noises that naked trees emitted when the wind pulled at their roots and granted the branches to sway from side to side.

Behind him, police car sirens echoed and as he exercised his leg muscles and kept the cold at bay, he placed the distance between himself and the screeching, monotonous noises. Ahead of him, silence greeted him and as he drew closer, he could already make out the sketchy outline of houses.

There were lights on in every house in the quiet neighbourhood, he ignored them and followed a trail of corners and turnings before settling by a tree to catch his breath.

For some reason, his mind had always picked a tree. Quite often, it was the same one and in this case, it was a familiar one too. Yet there was a lingering feel of tension in the air that the man could not pinpoint nor reach out to grab at.

He would be damned if he could, it was inevitable that the face that would greet him would be the one that haunted him day by day and night by night, attacking his dreams of lost peace and calmness, only to be replaced by the immense guilt and stupidity he had caused and suffered.

"I knew you'd be here, Nobuchika Ginoza." A voice snapped him out of his reverie. It was eerily similar to one he had heard before.

"Did you indeed?" He replied. Sarcasm was clear in his words.

Ginoza recognised the voice like an imprint on his mind; it was the voice that had aided him, scolded him, scrutinised and joked with him – it was one that had exchanged conversations with him at the office, at crime scenes and even walking home.

The enforcer turned around and a man stepped out of the darkness that surrounded them, he stopped beside the tree that Ginoza had just leaned against.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Kougami?"

His old colleague had not changed much. He still carried an aura of mysteriousness around him that the man had grown accustomed to and had grown weary of in the last few years of their working relationship. There were signs of stubble forming on Kougami's chin and he had slightly shorter hair but it remained unkempt and unruly. He was dressed in his regular suit and tie with the addition of a trench coat and scarf draped around his neck.

"Cigarette?"

And like old times, a repeated ritual, his companion offered him a cigarette and he complied without his regular protests. He awaited the sharp noise of a lighter switch being flicked open to accept the short, burning orange flame and the cigarette was lowered, levelled with the flame and brought up to Kougami's lips.

Smoke rose to fill the air as the ex-enforcer exhaled. Before he took another long drag, Kougami took the cigarette from Ginoza's fingers and ignited it with the embers of his own, earning a nod in thanks.

The two men stood in silence. The trees swayed again. The noises were fainter. The only clear noise between them was the exhaling of smoke and the muffled tapping of feet on snow.

"Why are you here?"

The question came out of the blue, Kougami cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Other than to ambush me and fail, what brings you back to Tokyo again?"

Ginoza took another drag of his cigarette before tossing the cancer stick into a nearby bin. He brought a hand to his hair and ran his fingers through it; he tugged at the dark wisps before settling again and making eye contact with Kougami, waiting for his reply.

"No real reason, I guess. I just wondered if Tsunemori was well."

"Well, she's fared much better than you and I have, mind you."

Kougami let out a chuckle. "Quite right," The man hesitated briefly before returning to their conversation. "I got you a little something."

Ginoza tilted his head in question. "Oh?"

Kougami reached into his coat pocket and fumbled around for a few seconds before presenting the man with an unopened bottle of whisky.

"It was Pops' favourite. He used to drink it every Friday evening after work."

The mention of Masaoka Tomomi sent a flame of remembrance to Ginoza's heart. He might have felt grief and regret if they had met earlier but instead he acknowledged the gift with a one-sided smile.

"I'm surprised you knew that."

Kougami let out a noise halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Happy birthday, Gino,"

"Thank you,"

"And tell Tsunemori that I wish her well."

He knew that the message would be left alone for now; a baton to never be received in a relay race. Not yet anyway. Instead he accepted the polite gesture with an agreement.

"I'll try."

"Okay."

Kougami extinguished his cigarette as he hurled it into the damp snow and brushed off any invisible marks on his coat. "Well, take care then, Gino."

And with those parting words, Kougami inaudibly promised that they would meet again in passing, as they often did. And with another nod, a smirk and a turning of the heel, Kougami had gone again. He weaved into the crowd of pedestrians making their way home; just another citizen; just another person; just an ex-enforcer who had fallen under the radar and a man with a lost interest in the world.

And for Ginoza, he sauntered back to his quarters; back to Dime; back to his old haunt where memories remained and where an ex-inspector resided. He no longer followed sheep or crowds in the dark but remained another silent soul in his own miserable world.

And in the next year, another lit cigarette would greet him the next time Kougami Shinya graced Nobuchika Ginoza with his presence.


End file.
